The man from the gloomy club was swiftly bandaged up and carried out by the robust Demon Race security, the floor was cleaned, stains washed away, and everyone continued to dance as if nothing had happened.
Lyle wasn't sure if this was a sign of the great nerves of those who lived in the grey area, but this composedness undoubtedly eased the worry in his heart.
After Anna left, there was only a single seat between him and Beatrice.
She picked up a wine glass from the bar, the bright red liquid swaying inside, finally meeting her bright red lips.
Her eyes fixated on the crowd on the stage, a sculptural profile presented itself before Lyle.
"That's not a fake, you know." It sounded like mumbling to himself until Beatrice's gaze swept over, and it was then that Lyle realized she was talking to him.
"What?"
"I said, that Andrey ring isn't fake. You've been observing it for quite a while, haven't you?"
"Are Miss Beatrice also from Andrey?"
